Herald
by McStaken
Summary: It's not easy being The Herald of Andraste. Day-to-day is pretty chaotic. From Avvar throwing goats at the walls to helping Cassandra purloin the latest chapter of Swords and Shields- It's never quite dull. The Inquisition at it's maddest with a generous sprinkle of Lavallen/Cullen romance.
1. Goats

**Chapter 1: Goats**

For Anne. I blame you for this. All of it. You and my _rabid_ love of DAI.

Inquisitor Lavallen and the Inquisition at large had been set up in Skyhold for long enough, now, that she could generally get her bearings. Skyhold, compared to Haven, was almost like a maze and had taken some getting used to. Not simply because various parts of the complex had been torn down and rebuilt almost continuously based on the mad whims of whomever seemed to own it at the time - but _fehendis_ it was cold this far in the mountains. Not just cold - almost sub-zero. One would have to be mad to live here. Or very, _very_ wary of attack.

She crossed the courtyard and tried not to breathe heavily enough to get a faceful of her own stale breath as it crystallised when an unusual sound caught her attention.

_Splat_.

Uhhh that was never a good noise. A crowd was gathering on the outer wall beside Cullen's Tower. Please, oh please, Creators, let this have _nothing_ to do with Sera.

Suspiciously, Lavallen followed the sound and began to hear the faint murrms of some sort of farm animal.

Dirthra'ma. What was going on? She pushed through the scouts surrounding the scene and caught a flash of Cullen's colourful mantle. He turned as she succeeded in pushing to the head of the crowd and gave her a look of utmost confusion. 'Inquisitor.'

'Cullen.' She acknowledged and looked over the side of the wall. There was a lone man in what looked to be a blue goatskin mask - complete with horns. As she watched, he reached into a cart beside him and wrestled a goat out of the throng.

_Splat_.

Corpses and concussed goats littered the ground further down the wall. The snow around it looked freshly trodden. He was - what in Creators _was_ he doing? She glanced at Cullen but her Commander just shrugged in complete confusion and watched as the masked man threw his head back and laughed.

'Cullen, correct me if I'm wrong, but is he throwing live goats at my wall?' She asked eventually.

'It - appears so, Inquisitor.' He conceded carefully.

They stood in silence and watched as he grabbed the cart and pulled it laboriously up the hill towards a part of the wall that hadn't yet had the attention of goats.

'Go and stop him, would you?'

Cullen's head snapped to her as the crowd of scouts and onlookers paused. 'Throwing goats is not, strictly speaking-' He began.

'Technically, he's attacking the walls, isn't he?'

_Splat_.

Cullen squirmed uncomfortably, but she knew she had him there. Just because he didn't _want_ to get close to the crazy person in a mask and trousers (and possibly little else) throwing goats at the wall didn't mean he could duck out of it.

The crowd around them seemed to be getting smaller as people rapidly found something to do - lest their Commander decide to enlist them in the Goat-Man wrangling squad. Cullen took another look at the lunatic hurling goats and back at the Inquisitor. 'Liethe this is insane-!'

She sighed and looked at him sympathetically. 'Cullen, this isn't even the maddest thing I've seen this week. Just - detain him, will you? I'll deal with him later.'

_Splat_.

'Yes, Inquisitor.' He took another look at the madman and groaned as she moved through the rapidly thinning crowd.

_Creators_. What fun that would be.


	2. Grim

**Chapter 2: Grim**

The clothes smelled off. Like they'd been left in a trunk for a few years. They were unfamiliar and constricting and Bull had shoved them at her and told her to get changed. She wasn't quite sure why, but she trusted him, for a given amount of trust. Bull radiated confidence and had a startling amount of intelligence for a Qunari who, by his own admission, charged horns first into _every_ fight.

He'd taken up space in the new tavern that had immediately sprang up and was waiting in his usual spot for her. He grunted as his one good eye looked her up and down. A hand reached out and mussed her hair to give it a rougher look. 'Looking good, Boss. Let's get going.'

She tried to straighten her hair out and replied 'Why am I dressed like this?'

'You'll see. It'll be worth your time, I promise.'

She trusted him, but she hated that as a Ben Hassrath, he was good at being vague. Still, he wouldn't have asked her to do this if it wasn't important. He'd said so himself. They left the tavern and turned almost immediately to go down the stairs, to the larger courtyard that led to the stables. Here, there were makeshift camps for refugees and soldiers from Haven as they found habitable rooms for everyone. She looked around and noted a few more tents had sprung up in the time since she'd last visited - but that had been as the Herald of Andraste. With Vivienne's shiny, impressive clothes. These were a far cry from Vivienne's tastes.

Bull finally spotted something he'd evidently been looking for and approached a pair of people sitting at a makeshift table, playing cards. 'Evening. Iron Bull. My Merc band just joined up.' The two figures cast a wary glance at them as Bull sat down heavily and motioned for Liethe to sit, too.

'Tanner. I'm from Jader. Well, near Jader.' The first to speak nodded carefully. Wary of revealing too much, maybe?

'Mira.' His associate nodded at them. 'I was guard-captain to Lady Pendell. Signed on after shit blew up at the conclave.' Liethe felt her heart clench. _The conclave_. Creators, it still hurt to think about. All those deaths, all that mess. And she'd somehow survived. She was the only survivor.

'Share a drink?' Mira asked. 'Who is your friend?'

Liethe froze.

'This is Grim.' Bull lied easily. 'She doesn't talk much.' The fact that Bull could lie so quickly and so easily was almost disconcerting. In response, Liethe summed a grunt. Bull smoothed it over by once again, diving right in. 'So, you ready to kill some demons or Venatori...or whatever that Corypheus asshole is?'

'This isn't just about killing.' Mira responded. 'We're helping The Inquisitor save the world and build the next empire.'

Thank the creators for her brilliant poker-face or Liethe would have spluttered. Empire? She'd never had dreams of an _empire_. The furthest to the future she had ever thought of was surviving long enough to kick Corypheus' ass. On the slow days she'd barely thought about what to have for dinner. Building an empire was laughable.

She could do it, though. With the power she was gaining - and so quickly, too, faithful flocked even as far as Skyhold to help her - she could take over Thedas. But then, what would she do on the weekends?

She managed to summon a grunt and looked at Bull quizzically. He ignored her and smiled. 'Well, long as I get paid, I'm happy. That's why I signed up.'

Tanner chose this moment to explain his reasons for joining. 'I just couldn't spend my whole life on a farm. Needed to live a little, you know?' She made a mental note to keep Tanner well away from any action that may happen. The kid looked young. Younger than she felt comfortable having in a dangerous battle. He had to be - what? Seventeen? Leliana was going to get a missive about it in the next hour if she had any say.

'What about you, Mira? Why'd you join up? I thought you were serving some noble.' Bull prodded.

'I saw what happened at Haven.' Mira replied pensively. 'The Inquisitor staring down that monster and his archdemon.' Ha. She had to be kidding, right? Liethe hadn't been _staring him down_. She'd been shitting her pants. Throughout the entire thing. Who, in their right mind, wouldn't have been?! 'I don't sing the Chant of Light as much as I should, but you can't see something like that and not believe.'

In the privacy of her own mind, Liethe was gently reminded that she had lived it and still didn't quite believe. But she did sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming about fangs. Bull pulled her out of her reverie as he straightened up. 'Well, Grim and I should find our tents. Thanks for the drink.' She followed him, still completely confused, away from the two recruits they'd been talking to but had the presence of mind to keep her questions to herself until they were out of earshot.

Bull glanced around and then turned to face her. 'I know every soldier under my command.' He mused. 'You don't have that option… but a few faces might help.'

'You sounded like you didn't like the inquisition.' She mused as she turned over his point.

'People don't always tell the truth when you're polite. You gotta poke them a bit.' He smirked.

Somehow, she felt he was including her in that. 'I suppose it was good to get their perspective.'

'Sounds like we could use an easy win for boys like Tanner. And vets like Mira have seen enough to be wary.' That reminded her, she had to send a note to Leliana about keeping Tanner on the easy jobs. She wasn't going to let a boy like him get killed fighting her war. He had mentioned wanting to live a little. She wanted him to live a _lot_. For her sake.

'You've got a good army coming along.' Bull agreed. 'Remember that, whatever comes next.'


	3. Blighted

A/N: This chapter is more of a setup for the next chapter. Liethe Lavallen hates undead. Like really, really, REALLY hates the undead. Have a chapter where I play with it.

* * *

It was raining. It never really stopped in Crestwood. The entire region had seen enough rainfall to last the next several years and it still kept going. The ground was more mud than dirt, and the rain landed hard enough to spray back, shrouding the entire area in a thick, permeating fog.

That wasn't what bothered the small four man party that huddled around the campfire, however.

'...Infected. All infected. Hurts to breathe. Hurts to drink - maker please end me before-'

Liethe's eye twitched and she glanced at Cole to check the boy was alright. Creators if she had known how bad this was going to be, she'd have never brought him along. He seemed overwhelmed by the suffering that had happened here.

Solas, too, was watching Cole, evaluating his condition. Cassandra, however was warily watching what little they could see around them. 'Solas, the wards are properly set up, aren't they?'

There was a sudden bright flash and a keening noise of pain as a walking corpse blundered into one of the fire runes they had carefully set around the small camp. 'Yes, Seeker. They are.' The elf replied absently.

It was creepy, undoubtedly. The entire place felt wrong just from a mage's perspective. The veil was thin here - not helped by the giant tear in the sky that, with some careful scouting, appeared to originate from the caves further through this…. Graveyard.

Corpses from the last blight lay where they'd been washed. Some still walked. As if that weren't enough to satisfy, spirits and demons drifted or slunk by in the fog, ignoring them for the time being.

Fehendis. She found herself saying that word a lot these days, but even more-so here. Leliana had briefed her - but Liethe would never have believed the extent of the troubles.

A roar, unseen in the rain bounced around the deserted village and caused three of the four to sit up rigidly in alarm. 'That dragon is still calling.' Cassandra growled.

Oh yes, there were dragons here, too. As if Crestwood didn't have enough problems. And they expected her to fix them all.

Another sizzle, another scream. Cole stopped for a second and then picked up again. 'The water, it keeps rising. Oh maker I can't breathe. I can't breathe I can't - I cant-!'

"Oh maker" Indeed. It was going to be a long night.

'Liethe, you dislike undead, do you not?' Cassandra asked conversationally.

'Yes.' She'd made no secret of it. Especially when Leliana had asked her to investigate Crestwood and the possibility that the corpses were linked to the tear in the lake. Solas had switched from watching Cole to listening in to the conversation.

'And yet, you still chose to take this mission.' The seeker pointed out.

'Of course I did.' She frowned. 'Without The Inquisition, what hope does the inhabitants of Crestwood have? I'm the only one able to close these breaches and if the corpses are a symptom of the breach in the lake, then I have to do something about the breach.'

'That is a very compassionate response.' Cassandra replied. 'Why do you not like the undead?'

'I - I just do, Cassandra..' Liethe replied evasively.

Another corpse burst into flames, close enough now for the flames to be a visible yellow hue in the fog around the campfire.

'The corpses - they smell horrible. Creators, she hates it. Hates that they've ran out of embrium to throw on the fire. Mask the smell of seaweed and dank and _Fehendis_ she should have outright said no to doing this, but she can't, because she's _The Herald_. Rot makes her feel icky and she'd give all the power in Thedas for a bath right now -'

'Ha!' Cassandra burst out. 'I knew it! You don't like the smell of them!'

_Fehendis_ Cole.


	4. The Herald's Mount

**Chapter 4: The Herald's Mount**

When they said they'd had a very mysterious letter from some shady bunch of people offering a truly unique creature, Liethe had been wary. You generally don't buy before you see - or in this case, send a bunch of Inquisition soldiers halfway across Thedas for something you'd never seen but Leliana had been keen. The more unique and impressive things they held, the more their esteem rose with the nobles in Val Royeux who apparently collected unique and impressive things like some sort of hobby.

That said, she had never mentioned _this_. Fehendis.

Dennet was struggling to control the... Thing… and not get gouged by the...thingy - _SWORD_ \- sword! That was sticking out of the poor beast's head.

It reeked. It reeked like a sulphur pit first and foremost and of rot and decay underneath. It was emaciated and brown, but not chestnut. Like it had been dyed down to the very skin and beyond with filth. The sword that poked out of it's skull was rusted and chipped at the blade. Liethe could feel herself sweating, despite the cold.

'It is rather impressive, Inquisitor. For an abomination.'

Liethe turned to Cassandra, who was also watching Dennet's attempts not to get gouged. with an expression approaching horror. 'Creators, Cassandra it's _undead!_' It came out more shrill than she'd first expected but - well - had the woman actually seen the thing?!

Cassandra sighed heavily. 'Yes, I did warn Leliana of your aversion to the undead.'

Leliana had, patently, not listened. They both heard Dennet as he swore. The undead horse had reared and the horsemaster had been forced to let go of the reins, lest he get kicked. He swore again and backed toward the Seeker and the Inquisitor. 'It's no good. I don't know how to care for something like that!'

Cassandra clucked. 'Surely it is like any other horse, yes?'

'You try and do something with it, then!' Dennet replied hotly. Cassandra, for her credit, looked towards the beast as it threw its head around and the rusted sword in it's skull whirled dangerously. Rusted it might be, but with the strength of a horse - especially a magically imbued horse - it was plenty enough for someone to be run through and die of infection.

'It is the Inquisitor's mount, Dennet.' She settled.

Fehendis, Cassandra! How could she? Throwing her to the wolves - _undead wolves at that_ \- because she didn't want to get near it! Liethe gave her a scalding look and then approached the new mount cautiously. With every step she could feel the lead weight in her stomach increase until her hand was inches from touching it's flank. The mount reacted and tried to gouge at her with the sword stuck in it's head. She reacted instinctively and grabbed at it, hard. The second her hand touched the sword, it was like a lightning rod. She could feel the tingle of unfamiliar magic as it interacted with her own. It was like burning tendrils of ice that raced up and down her arm. It made the mark on her hand throb, as though it were eager to be used.

The horse had frozen at her touch. She too, stood rigidly with the unfamiliar magic coursing and unfamiliar feeling rode it like a wave. Unerring loyalty, crippling loneliness, and a burning need to this - was this what the thing felt?

It was compassion that made her left her other arm and stroke the thing's neck. It felt soft, which surprised her. But under the patchwork hair was a feeling of leather. She didn't know what bogs did to things, but this must be it. The poor thing was terrified at finding itself in a world that no longer felt right.

It still stank to the fade and back, though.

When she finally managed to find the courage to let go of it's … horn, the horse milled and carefully nudged her shoulder with it's neck. Liethe turned, still slightly terrified towards the horsemaster and Cassandra. Dennet had thrown up his hands and was stalking away. Over the sound of the wind, she could hear him muttering about Drakolisks and undead abominations and to the fade with the lot of them. Cassandra was wearing a particularly smug expression.

'I hate you.' Liethe hissed at her.

'Me, Inquisitor? You should save your ire for Leliana. It was her idea.' Cassandra crowed.

Oh, she would find Leliana in short order alright. 'And how did you know it would only allow me to calm it?'

'I am Nevarran, Inquisitor.' Cassandra replied easily. 'We do like our mounts to be spirited. Not quite _this_ spirited, I grant you, but I was quick to recognise the type. It needed a stern hand, and one it understood.'

Creators, she hated when Cassandra was right. The "bog-unicorn" chose that moment to lean down and gently nibble her hair - to Liethe's everlasting horror.


	5. That's not my sword

**Chapter 5 : That's not my sword**

Liethe Lavallen had her own tower in Skyhold. Access was through a door next to the Inquisitor's throne and up several flights of stairs. Several. They were a nightmare to climb after a certain point of exhaustion and more than once, several aides had found her sleeping on the wooden stairs, rather than climb the last few flights to her room.

Today, though, she'd actually gotten some use out of her room - and her bed. Waking up in her rooms in Skyhold was bliss. The sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, the fire in the grate had worked itself to crisp embers, the sheets were soft and thick. It all led to an absolutely blissful experience as she woke and stretched.

_Clang!_

'Dirthra'ma!' She jumped and looked over the side of the massive four poster bed at what had just made that unearthly noise. It was a sword. A now slightly blunted sword, judging by the gouge marks in her floor. A somewhat familiar sword, at that, too.

Confused as to how it had ended up in her room, she left it on the bed as she dressed and prepared mentally for whatever today was going to throw at her. It was only as she picked it up and went downstairs into the great hall that Cullen jogged up to her looking flushed and flustered and frowned. 'Inquisitor, you found my sword.'

She blinked and held it out to him. 'It may need sharpening.' She admitted ruefully.

'I could have sworn I left this with my armour last night.' Cullen frowned as he hefted it easier than she certainly had. 'Strange.'

Very strange. Not only that it should have disappeared from Cullen's loft where he undoubtedly swore he'd left it - but to have reappeared in her own rooms. On her bed. As though someone were forcing them to interact.

That little monster -

'Inquisitor, are you alright? You look furious.'

She threw Cullen a rueful look. 'Nothing to concern yourself with, Commander. I just need to talk to someone urgently about certain behaviour.'

He gave a light chuckle. 'Well, I would hate to be them.'

Undoubtedly.

Cole was sitting on one of the ramparts, idly kicking his feet. He seemed to have already known she was there. 'Your thoughts are very loud and angry.'

She'd thought about how to talk to Cole. He wasn't usually someone you could have a rational conversation with. That said, the sword was not just stepping over her boundaries but several feet inside her comfort zone and needed to be dealt with. 'That's because I _am_ angry, Cole.'

'I wanted to help.' He replied simply and turned his gaunt, mournful face towards her. 'You think about him a lot. About what he said at Haven. How nice he looks when he gets flustered. You worry about him. You're hurting.'

She sighed and leaned against the stone beside him. 'It's a different kind of hurt to what you know, Cole.'

He nodded. 'It's softer. The pain is duller. But it's still hurting.'

Liethe realised that Cole had never really had the concept of attraction explained to him. He'd never come across this type of "hurt" before and it was confusing him. 'Is that why you took Commander Cullen's sword and left it on my bed?'

'I thought you'd hurt less if you talked to him. But I made you angry. Why did it make you angry?' Two soulful blue eyes looked up at her.

As Sera would probably say about now: Maker's pants. How was she going to talk around this one? 'This kind of hurt is something you can't help me with, Cole. It's not a wound that needs stitching, or a bad memory I want to forget. I need to figure out how to heal it on my own.'

'Why? Why can't you just talk to him and tell him and heal your hurt?'

Because quite honestly, she didn't expect Cullen to feel that way about her. When she'd joined the Inquisition in Haven, Leliana had very gently taken her aside and given her a brief rundown of why Cullen kept twitching every time she moved. She knew how hard it was for him to trust her. As a friend, as The Inquisitor, but especially as a mage. 'Because it doesn't work like that.' Liethe responded simply. 'It's something I need to work out without interference.'

Cole's legs kicked out again. 'You want me to stop helping.'

'I want you to stop stealing his things.' She replied.

The overlarge hat he was wearing dipped. 'Okay.'

Oh, well now he just looked like a kicked mabari. That was hardly fair. Liethe sighed and leaned against the parapet. 'Remind me to grab one of Varric's books for you.'

'Why?'

'It'll help you understand.'

That was if she could pry the latest edition from Cassandra's hands. To be honest, she would have rather taken on a dragon than try that. Dragons were far less aggressive than Cassandra with a new romance serial.

* * *

PSA: Do not attempt to pry a romance novel from Cassandra Pentaghast. I repeat: **Do not attempt to pry a romance novel from Cassandra Pentaghast!**


	6. Chess is just a metaphor

**Chapter 6: Chess is just a metaphor**

'Gloat all you like, I have this one.'

She _had_ been tending to the elfroot plants in the gardens when she'd heard Cullen's voice. Liethe Lavallen looked up from the planter and across the courtyard in time to see Dorian's head tilt. 'Are you _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn't know you had it in you.'

Cullen sighed heavily as she moved closer to see what was going on. 'Why do I even-' He looked up suddenly and saw her approach. 'Inquisitor!' The jump to get out of his seat was, frankly funny. Clearly Dorian thought so, too.

'Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?' He smirked. Cullen sat back heavily with a scowl at him in reply. They were playing chess on a little table and chairs that had probably been scavenged from one of the dilapidated rooms in Skyhold. The board was littered with black pieces, but few white.

'Are you two playing nice?'

'I'm _always_ nice.' Dorian quipped back. Judging by Cullen's expression, he certainly didn't believe so. 'You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better.'

A twinkle had entered Cullen's eye as he gripped one of the black pieces and set it down on the board perilously close to a white that had been surrounded. 'Really? Because I just won and I feel fine!' He gloated.

Dorian's scan of the board was unfavourable to say the very least. There was nothing he could do. 'Don't get smug.' He returned darkly as he stood. 'There'll be no living with you.'

Triumphant in victory, Cullen turned to Liethe. 'I should return to my duties as well. Unless… you would care for a game?'

Games and Liethe had never mixed well. When she was a child, she wanted to win at any cost and that competitiveness was usually her downfall. Still, a chance to go up against Cullen head to head was rare and, if she actually won, Dorian would be elated that Cullen feel the sting of losing as he had.

It was too irresistible. 'Prepare the board, commander.'

'As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck up grin whenever she won, which was all the time.' Like the grin that he himself had worn while trouncing Dorian? She wondered. Almost like the reminiscent grin he was wearing now, as he reset the pieces.'My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won!' His face fell somewhat, after the recollection and Liethe found that she didn't like it as much as his smug smile. 'Between serving the templars and serving the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays?'

His hand reached out and nudged the first of his pieces forward, his mind clearly on something else. She could have taken advantage of his occupied mind to cheat, but Keeper Deshaana used to say that Mythal would make note of injustices for Elgar'nan to wreak vengeance on, later. As the humans would say - Cheaters never prosper.

She decided to play fair.

He was clever and misleading, she'd give him that, but she was not a bad player, herself and could see what he was plotting. Eventually, though, Cullen looked up at her from the board and said 'This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.'

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, too busy focused on his next move, his next strategy. 'We should spend more time together.'

She only realised she'd erred when Cullen had gone quiet. 'Cullen?' She asked and looked up at him. Was he smiling at her? Oh, Creators, what had she said? Liethe hastily shuffled through the conversation of the last few minutes and paled as she finally remembered what she'd said. Dirthra'ma. Creators, kill her now.

'I would .. like that.'

Okay, maybe not yet. 'Me too.' She admitted with a smile. She enjoyed his company, after all, and games like this were a good excuse to be in it.

'You said that… We should finish our game. Right. My turn?' He replied, still beaming slightly as he moved a piece.

Fehendis, Liethe, get your head out of your bony elven arse and play chess. Stop noticing how nice he looks when he smiles, damn it. She moved a piece and the game progressed. Cullen was an excellent chess player, but it was clear she was gaining the upper hand.

Eventually, Cullen tipped his king and sat back. 'I believe this one is yours. Well played.'

Victory. Liethe smirked, Dorian would be pleased she'd thrashed their commander.

'I cannot stand for that.' Cullen replied. 'I have a reputation, you know. Best two out of three?'

She laughed. 'By all means, please set the board again, commander.'

* * *

A/N: So, real life smacked me upside the head and dragged me away. I have a couple of finished chapters but surprise! They're all Cullen/Lavellan. So Rather than run around like a headless chicken trying to get something else done, just have this and know that I will eventually be focusing on a broader spectrum of events including an update on Goat-flinger Chief Movran and the poor unfortunate he's been stuck with.


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